


On Death's Door

by writerllofllworlds



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Death, Death is the narrator, Feels, everyone dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 17:06:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14958614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerllofllworlds/pseuds/writerllofllworlds
Summary: Death followed Merlin like the plague.





	On Death's Door

**Author's Note:**

> So I had this weird idea a few days ago to write a narrative with Death as the narrator.   
> So, here?   
> I, as always, love comments and all that jazz. Thanks to everyone! Love you guys! Stay magical!
> 
>  
> 
> (I don't own BBC Merlin, no matter how much I wish I did)

 

Mary Collins died 13 years earlier than I had planned.

She had been a curt woman, firm to her children, but she had a good heart. She had raised her daughters and son to the best of her ability without a husband to assist her. Her two daughters were married off at the appropriate age, yet her son, who had always had physical problems (Gaius said it had been lung issues) was not married and stayed with his mother in Camelot.

That was where Uther had decided her son deserved death.

I had never liked Uther Pendragon. Ever since his dear wife had come into my welcoming arms, he had been ruthless. His hatred for magic was only surpassed by his love for his son, and combining the two only caused ruin and pain for those who practiced it. He dealt out death to anyone he saw as a threat, which tampered with the balance of the Old Religion and my job in general. The majority of dead people that came out of Camelot were falsely accused magic users.

Mary’s son was no different. His head had rolled on the cobblestones as he walked through my doors, his mother’s scream never reaching his ears.

Mary had joined him only a few days later, at the hand of an actual sorcerer.

“You’re _early_.” I had whispered but beckoned her on.

 

 

When Valiant the knight strolled into my lovely abode, I was thoroughly shocked.

“You’re not due for another 56 years.” I murmured but passed him on anyway. Valiant had been of noble stock until his early manhood years. A good home, strong parents, and a moral code that had seemed unshakable led him through trial after trial of his childhood. As he grew, however, his anger and pride propelled him to achieve victory at any price. When he had strolled into Camelot for the tournament, I knew that it would not end well for him.

However, his death came far, far too early.

His future held a wife, four sons, and two darling angels of daughters. His family was destined to turn him around and set him on a path of peace and kindness.

Yet there he was, disappearing out my door, 56 years too early.

I hummed in curiosity and a little irritation. Camelot was taking my job and butchering it up quite excellently.

 

 

When Edwin Muirden strolled into my chambers looking like the monster he truly had become 4 years ahead of schedule, I was not too put out about the situation. He had always been a cruel man, and when he walked out my doors to the other side I was not disappointed that he had arrived ahead of schedule. However, this would be the 3rd time that Camelot had yielded me a human before their time since the Great Purge, and I decided t investigate.

I found my source.

Death followed him like a plague.

 

 

William strolled through my castle as if he owned the place. 23 years early.

His face was so young. Barely a man still, hardly out of being a child. His life gone in the blink of an eye. A wonderful wife, 3 darling boys, and a dog who could be considered a child all her own. I clicked my tongue as he appeared down the path. He met me with a smirk, a knowing one, and his hands thrown out in false challenge. “You’re taller than I imagined."

I raised a brow, tilting my head. “You thought about me often?”

He shrugged. Suddenly, as if an afterthought or perhaps something that had been lying in wait his entire life, Will muttered, “He’ll be alright, won’t he?”

Somehow, I knew. The plague of death himself.

I frowned.

“I suppose that is up to him.” He has been messing up all of my plans recently.

Will nodded. He glanced towards the rising sun. “That way?”

I moved out of his path.

“Where does it lead?” he asked.

“I suppose that is up to you.”

 

 

The great physician himself.

Gaius was early, and this time I knew that there had been a serious mistake. It only took a moment for me to smile and shake my head. “Not yet, my friend. Not yet.”

Even as I spoke, Gaius disappeared and was replaced by Nimueh, who turned her nose up at me. She snarled, bearing the look that so many had already borne to me. A look of pain and regret and the slightest trace of fear.

“Death,” she spat. “You will not take me now!”

I simply smiled. “I don’t believe that is your decision to make. Besides, you have already cheated me too many years. You are overdue your fate, Nimueh.”

And before she could raise a finger against me, she was gone, nothing but a breeze through the trees and a chill left behind.

 

 

“My dear Freya.”

I was saddened to see her here, 3 years before her time. She had a good heart – a great heart. Her kindness and strength were admirable, and she still had life ahead of her, time to say goodbye still.

It seemed that the warlock of Camelot had interfered again.

Her eyes trained on me, dark brows lifting in plea. “Will I see him again?”

Oh, he had interfered indeed.

I chuckled. Her heart was on her sleeve for me to see plain as day. She had fallen in love with a man who was destined a life of pain and sorrow. Of death.

I sighed heavily and guided her towards the lake in front of us. “Perhaps.”

 

 

Balinor was 1 year early. He was fated to die by Uther’s hand after saving Camelot from the Great Dragon, but it seemed he too had met the boy sorcerer.

He walked through my forest with an air of familiarity, as if the woods he explored were a long lost home. He only looked at me once, then strolled on, without a glance back.

 

 

The Fisher King appeared in my presence with his crown on his head, his chin tilted upwards in regal pride. He looked ages younger than I had expected.

“So, you finally found him?” I asked.

He smiled mischievously. “Indeed.”

Then he advanced towards the doors behind me. He turned with his hand on the frame, a victorious grin adorning his young face. “Hope, old friend! Hope at last.”

And he was gone.

 

 

I was beyond frustrated when Sir Lancelot humbly entered my rooms 39 years ahead of schedule.

“Am I on time?” he asked politely, lips turned up only just. “I don’t approve of being late, you know.”

I had narrowed my eyes in reply.

“You aren’t very talkative, are you?”

I raised a brow. “Did you expect me to be?”

“I’m not sure what I expected.” Lancelot replied easily, chainmail glinting in the evening light. “But this…” he gestured around. “This is peaceful.”

“Death can be.” I nodded.

He paused for a moment and looked behind him.

“Do you regret it?” I asked.

He turned back to me, grin sliding onto his lips. “Never.” And he walked passed me.

I caught his shoulder right before he was gone. “Well done.”

Lancelot closed his eyes and all of the tension left his shoulders. He sighed, long and deep, all of the pain and heartache that he had felt his whole life escaping like the sunlight around them. And then he was gone just as the sun disappeared behind the trees and darkness enveloped me.

Finally at peace.

 

 

Uther was _late_. Many, _many_ years too late.

Merlin in all his meddling hands just couldn’t let him die when he was supposed to. Many times I had waited eagerly for him to appear in my presence, but time and time again he would be snatched from my grasp at the last second. Morgana had saved him, Gaius of course had saved him, and Merlin, to my shock, had saved him more than anyone else.

Not today. Not again. Today he would answer for the countless lives he had stolen, the many hearts he had broken and left in shambles because of his own hatred and fear.

Today, today he was _mine_.

Uther Pendragon trudged through my abode with his head down, shoulders hunched. He paused only once, too look at me and ask, “Ygraine?”

I blinked once, twice, then gestured towards the door.

 

 

Agravaine was not a welcome face in my halls. Despite my reputation amongst the people in the world, I did have standards, and he fell below all of them. Not even a decent villain, I rolled my eyes and dismissed the fact that Emrys had once again sent me someone too early. 12 days too early.

However, I let this one slide.

Agravaine did not look up once as he disappeared out my door, and my eyes did not follow him.

 

 

“Your loyalty to him is what killed you.” I barked.

Alator looked up at me with the calmest expression I had ever seen. “My loyalty to him is what saved me.”

And he disappeared out the door, 3 years before his time.

His apprentice, Finna, followed soon after, proud and strong in a way only a woman can be. I repeated the words to her. She smiled that same smile and chuckled.

“To die for a man as great as he is the highest honor.” And followed her master, 8 weeks ahead of my plan.

 

 

Who was this boy that he could deny me? Who was this petty _warlock_ who could change my entire plan with the flash of his golden eyes? Who was this – this child who thought he had more power over death then _I_?

Who was this _boy_ who commanded the loyalty of kings, knights, and priests of the Old Religion to the point of death?

 

 

Mordred was a welcome sight to my expectation of arrival. He was only 3 days ahead of schedule.

He was eager to reach the other side, muttering about Kara and the druids. His family. But he paused before running down the forested path and turned to me.

“Arthur?” he asked, and I saw the doubt in him. The regret. The eyes of a child who was playing at a man’s war.

I turned away from him and hummed. He was gone before I looked back.

 

 

When Gwaine strolled through my forest, I was reminded distinctly of Will and all his bravado. His puffed out chest, flowing hair that couldn’t have been fully real, and the look in his eyes that showed his heart was stronger than any ocean.

“What a run.” He smirked, cape twisting in the night breeze. “I suppose that I should be thanking you for making it so quick?”

I huffed, rolling my eyes. “Not necessarily, seeing as you are 41 years too soon.”

He laughed, loud and long and full. “Eh, we all have to go sometime.”

“Was it what you expected?” I asked. I had never experienced life myself. I was curious.

Gwaine swallowed, his voice suddenly soft as a tear slipped down his cheek. “Better than I could have ever imagined.”

And suddenly his grin grew wide again as he saw something down the path. “Lance?”

I needn’t have turned to hear the knights’ laughter as they embraced and entered the other side together.

 

 

Morgana was late.

But only just.

The few seconds that Emrys had held her were enough to count, though.

However, when she walked through my halls, there was no trace of the woman she had died as, but the lady that had walked through Camelot’s corridors like the queen she never truly got to be. The light in her eyes was not evil, but mischievous as it once was. Her dress was not black, but red. Camelot red. She greeted him with a nod and no more, and then was gone.

 

 

I was shocked to see him. His golden hair shimmered in the morning light. His blue eyes sparkled as he stared at me. He was smiling the smile that Life had told me of time and time again. Aggravatingly beautiful and full of hope.

However, even _I_ knew that Merlin needn’t worry. The Once and Future King was not destined to remain with me. Not forever.

Still…

“Hello, Arthur.” I breathed. “You’re right on time.” 


End file.
